CHOOSING 
ABE  LINCOLN 


o  ¥wm/f^ 


LINCOLN  ROOM 


UNIVERSITY  OF  ILLINOIS 
LIBRARY 

MEMORIAL 
the  class  of  1901 


founded  by 
HARLAN  HOYT  HORNER 
and 
HENRIETTA  CALHOUN  HORNER 


T\J 


t' 


•'■' 


/ 


CHOOSING 

"ABE"  LINCOLN 

sfofo^ 

CAPI'AIN 

. 

AND 

V>tV 

01  HER 

S  TORIES 

fTllustratcD 


1903 
The  Saalfield  Publishing  Company 

Niw  York  AKRON,  OHIO  Chicago 


Copyright,  1899, 

BY 

THK  we;rner  company 


a; 


"O,  THE  DEAR  ONES  AT  HOME!" 


CHOOSING   "ABE"    CAPTAIN, 

WHEN  the  Black  Hawk  war  broke  out  in  Illi- 
nois about  1832,  young  Abraham  Lincoln 
was  living  at  New  Salem,  a  little  village  of  the  class 
familiarly  known  at  the  w^st  as  "  one-horse  towns," 
and  located  near  the  capital  city  of  Illinois. 

He  had  just  closed  his  clerkship  of  a  year  in  a 
feeble  grocery,  and  was  the  first  to  enlist  under  the 
call  of  Governor  Reynolds  for  volunteer  forces  to  go 
against  the  Sacs  and  Foxes,  of  whom  Black  Hawk 
was  chief. 

By  treaty  these  Indians  had  been  removed  west  of 
the  Mississippi  into  Iowa ;  but,  thinking  their  old 
hunting-grounds  the  better,  they  had  recrossed  the 
river  with  their  war  paint  on,  causing  some  trouble, 
and  a  great  deal  of  alarm  among  the  settlers.  Such 
was  the  origin  of  the  war ;  and  the  handful  of  govern- 


Choosing  "  Abe  "  Captain. 

ment  troops  stationed  at  Rock  Island  wanted  help. 
Hence  the  State  call. 

Mr.  Lincoln  was  twenty-three  years  old  at  that 
time,  nine  years  older  than  his  adopted  state.  The 
country  was  thinly  settled,  and  a  company  of  ninety 
men  who  could  be  spared  from  home  for  military 
service  had  to  be  gathered  from  a  wide  district. 
When  full,  the  company  met  at  the  neighboring 
village  of  Richland  to  choose  its  officers.  In  those 
days  the  militia  men  were  allowed  to  select  their 
leaders  in  their  own  way  ;  and  they  had  a  very  pe- 
culiar mode  of  expressing  their  preference  for  cap- 
tains. For  then,  as  now,  there  were  almost  always 
two  candidates  for  one  office. 

They  would  meet  on  the  green  somewhere,  and  at 
the  appointed  hour,  the  competitors  would  step  out 
from  the  crowds  on  the  opposite  sides  of  the  ground, 
and  each  would  call  on  all  the  "  boys  "  who  wanted 
him  for  captain  to  fall  in  behind  him.  As  the  line 
formed,  the  man  next  the  candidate  would  put  his 
hands  on  the  candidate's  shoulder ;  the  third  man 
also  in  the  same  manner  to  the  second  man ;  and  so 
on  to  the  end.  And  then  they  would  march  and 
cheer  for  their  leader  like  so  many  wild  men,  in  order 
to  win  over  the  fellows  who  didn't  seem  to  have 
a   choice,    or  whose  minds  were  sure    to  run    after 


Choosing  "  Abe  "  Captain. 

the  greater  noise.  When  all  had  taken  sides,  the 
man  who  led  the  longer  line,  would  be  declared 
capiain 

Mr  Lincoln  never  outgrew  the  familiar  nickname, 
"  Abe,"  but  at  that  time  he  could  hardly  be  said  to 
have  any  other  name  than  "  Abe  ; "  in  fact  he  had 
emerged  from  clerking  in  that  little  corner  grocery 
as  "  Honest  Abe."  He  was  not  only  liked,  but 
loved,  in  the  rousrh  fashion  of  the  frontier  by  all  who 
knew  him.  He  was  a  good  hand  at  gunning,  fishing, 
racing,  wrestling  and  other  games ;  he  had  a  tall  and 
strong  figure  ;  and  he  seemed  to  have  been  as  often 
"  reminded  of  a  little  story  "  in  '32  as  in  '62.  And 
the  few  men  not  won  by  these  qualities,  were  won 
and  held  by  his  great  common  sense,  which  re- 
strained him  from  excesses  even  in  sports,  and  made 
him  a  safe  friend. 

It  is  not  singular  therefore  that  though  a  stranger 
to  many  of  the  enlisted  men,  he  should  have  had  his 
warm  friends  who  at  once  determined  to  make  him 
captain. 

But  Mr.  Lincoln  hung  back  with  the  feeling,  he 
said,  that  if  there  was  any  older  and  better  estab- 
lished citizen  whom  the  "  boys  "  had  confidence  in, 
it  would  be  better  to  make  such  a  one  captain.  His 
poverty  was  even   more  marked  than   his  modesty  ; 


Choositig  "  Abe'^  Captain. 

and  for  his  stock  in  education  about  that  time,  he 
wrote  in  a  letter  to  a  friend  twenty-seven  years, 
later : 

"  I  did  not  know  much ;  still,  somehow,  I  could 
read,  write,  and  cipher  to  the  rule  of  three,  but  that 
was  all." 

That,  however,  was  up  to  the  average  education  of 
che  community  ;  and  having  been  clerk  in  a  country 
grocery  he  was  considered  an  educated  man. 

In  the  company  Mr.  Lincoln  had  joined,  there 
was  a  dapper  little  chap  for  whom  Mr.  Lincoln  had 
labored  as  a  farm  hand  a  year  before,  and  whom  he 
had  left  on  account  of  ill  treatment  from  him.  This 
man  was  eager  for  the  captaincy.  He  put  in  his 
days  and  nights  "  log-rolling "  among  his  fellow 
volunteers ;  said  he  had  already  smelt  gunpowder 
in  a  brush  with  Indians,  thus  urging  the  value  of 
experience  ;  even  thought  he  had  a  '^  martial  bear- 
ing;" and  he  was  very  industrious  in  getting  those 
men  to  join  the  company  who  would  probably  vote 
for  him  to  be  captain. 

Muster-day  came,  and  the  recruits  met  to  organ- 
ize. About  them  stood  several  hundred  relatives 
and  other  friends. 

The  little  candidate  was  early  on  hand  and  busily 
bidding  for  votes.     He  had  felt  so  confident  of   the 


Choosing  ^^  Abe''"'  Captain. 

office  in  advance  of  muster-day,  that  he  had  rum- 
maged through  several  country  tailor-shops  and  got 
a  new  suit  of  the  nearest  approach  to  a  captain's  uni- 
form  that  their  scant  stock  could  furnish.  So  there 
he  was,  arrayed  in  jaunty  cap,  and  a  swallow^-tailed 
coat  with  brass  buttons.  He  even  wore  fine  boots,  and 
moreover  had  them  blacked  —  which  was  almost  a 
crime  among  a  country  crowd  of  that  day. 

Young  Lincoln  took  not  one  step  to  make  himself 
captain  ;  and  not  one  to  prevent  it.  He  simply  put 
himself  "  in  the  hands  of  his  friends,"  as  the  politi- 
cians say.  He  stood  and  quietly  watched  the  trouble 
others  were  borrowing  over  the  matter  as  if  it  were 
an  election  ot  officers  they  had  enlisted  for,  rather 
than  for  fighting  Indians.  But  after  all  a  good  deal 
depends  in  war,  on  getting  good  officers. 

As  two  o'clock  drew  near,  the  hour  set  for  making 
captain,  four  or  five  of  young  Lincoln's  most  zealous 
friends  with  a  big  stalwart  fellow  at  the  head  edged 
along  pretty  close  to  him,  yet  not  in  a  way  to  excite 
suspicion  of  a  "conspiracy."  J^st  a  little  bit  be- 
fore two,  without  even  letting  "  Abe  "  himself  know 
exactly  "  what  was  up,"  the  big  fellow  stepped  direct- 
ly behind  him,  clapped  his  hands  on  the  shoulders 
before  him,  and  shouted  as  only  prairie  giants  can, 
"  Hurrah  for  Captain   Abe  Lincoln  !  "  and  plunged 


Choosing  "  Abe  "  Captain. 

his    really    astonished    candidate    forward    into    a 
march. 

At  the  same  instant,  those  in  league  with  him  also 
put  hands  to  the  shoulders  before  them,  pushed,  and 
took  up  the  cheer,  "  Hurrah  for  Captain  Abe  Lin- 
coln !  "  so  loudly  that  there  seemed  to  be  several  hun- 
dred already  on  their  side ;  and  so  there  were,  fo  r 
the  outside  crowd  was  also  already  cheering  for 
"Abe." 

This  little  "  ruse  "  of  the  Lincoln  '^  boys  "  proved 
a  complete  success.  "  Abe"  had  to  march,  whether 
or  no,  to  the  music  of  their  cheers ;  he  was  truly  "in 
the  hands  of  his  friends  "  then,  and  couldn't  get  away; 
and  it  must  be  said  he  didn't  seem  to  feel  very  bad 
over  the  situation.  The  storm  of  cheers  and  the 
sight  of  tall  Abraham  (six  feet  and  four  inches)  at 
the  head  of  the  marching  column,  before  the  fussy 
little  chap  in  brass  buttons  was  quite  ready,  caused  a 
quick  stampede  even  among  the  boys  who  intended 
to  vote  for  the  little  fellow.  One  after  another  they 
rushed  for  a  place  in  "  Captain  Abe's  "  line  as  though 
to  be  first  to  fall  in  was  to  win  a  prize. 

A  few  rods  away  stood  that  suit  of  captain's  clothes 
alone,  looking  smaller  than  ever,  "  the  starch  all 
taken  out  of  'em,"  their  occupant   confounded,  and 


Choosing  "  Abe  "  Captain. 

themselves  for  sale.  "Abe's"  old  "boss"  said  he 
was  "  astonished,"  and  so  he  had  good  reason  to  be, 
but  everybody  could  see  it  without  his  saying  so. 
His  "  style"  couldn't  win  among  the  true  and  shrewd, 
though  unpolished  ^'  boys  "  in  coarse  garments.  They 
saw  right  through  him. 

"Buttons,"  as  he  became  known  from  that  day, 
was  the  last  man  to  fall  into  "  Abe's"  line  ;  he  said 
he'd  make  it  unanimous. 

But  his  experience  in  making  "  Abe "  Captain 
made  himself  so  sick  that  he  wasn't  "  able  "  to  move 
when  the  company  left  for  the  "  front,"  though  he  soon 
grew  able  to  move  out  of  the  procession. 

Thus  was  "  Father  Abraham,"  so  young  as  twenty 
three^  chosen  captain  of  a  militia  company  over  him 
whose  abused,  hired-hand  he  had  been.  It  i^  little 
wonder  that  in  '59  after  three  elections  to  the  State 
Legislature  and  one  to  Congress,  Mr.  Lincoln  should 
write  of  this  early  event  as  "  a  success  which  gave 
me  more  pleasure  than  any  I  have  had  since."  Tne 
war  was  soon  over  with  but  little  field  work  for  the 
volunteers  ;  but  no  private  was  known  to  complain 
that  "  Abe  "  was  not  a  good  captain. 


SALLY'S     SEVEN-LEAGUE 

SHOES. 

DID  you  never  hear  the  story  of  Sally  Colman's 
shoes  ? 
Why,  they  went  far  ahead  of  Jack's  seven-league 
boots  !  They  walked  all  the  way  from  Hatfield,  Mas- 
sachusetts, to  Canada  and  back,  walking  straight 
over  Lake  Champlain  without  sinking  —  they  were 
bound  with  silk  from  Paris  and  threaded  with  deer's 
sinew  from  the  forest,  and  soled  with  leather  from 
England,  and  the  red  serge  uppers  came  by  way  of 
New  Amsterdam,  straight  from  Holland,  and  with  all 
the  rough  usage  to  which  they  were  put  they  have 
lasted  two  hundred  years  and  are  not  quite  worn  out 
yet;  indeed  it  is  very  possible  that  they  may  last 
twice  two  hundred  years  longer.  Now,  is  not  that 
wonderful  ?  And  the  most  wonderful  thing  about  the 
story  is  —  that  it  is  quite  true. 


Sallfs  Seven-league  Shoes. 

One  bright  morning  early  in  September,  167 7,  little 
Sally  Colman  sat  on  the  counter  of  the  Hatfield  store 
swinging  her  feet  complacently,  and  not  a  little  proud 
of  the  new  pair  of  red  shoes  which  the  shopkeeper 
had  just  fitted  to  them.  She  was  on  the  point  of 
jumping  down  and  running  home,  when  Mistress  De- 
light Crowninshield,  a  young  lady  of  great  conse- 
quence from  Boston,  who  had  been  visiting  relatives 
in  Hatfield  that  summer,  inquired  of  the  shopkeeper, 
who  was  also  the  postmaster,  for  her  mail.  Little 
Sally  Colman  watched  her  with  great  awe,  as  she  re- 
ceived from  deferential  hands  a  brown  paper  parcel 
heavily  besplashed  with  huge  red  seals. 

"  They  are  my  slippers  !  "  exclaimed  Mistress  De- 
light in  a  tone  of  vexation,  as  she  tore  open  the  par- 
cel, "  and  just  too  late  for  the  husking  frolic  at  Be- 
noni  Stebbins'  barn  !  " 

She  placed  the  dainty  slippers  on  the  counter  and 
looked  at  them  regretfully  ;  and  Sally,  as  her  round, 
young  eyes  noted  their  French  heels  and  the  delicate 
roseate  hue  of  the  silk,  with  the  sparkle  of  the  small 
paste-buckles  on  the  instep,  thought  she  had  never 
seen  anything  half  so  lovely  in  all  her  short  life^  and 
looked  down  with  diminished  pride  at  her  own  heel- 
less,  stout-soled  little  boots  with  their  red  serge 
uppers  and  waxed-end  ties. 


Sally^s  Seven-league  Shoes. 

"  After  all,"  sighed  Mistress  Crowninshield,  "  per- 
haps it  is  quite  for  the  best.  I  should  certainly  have 
split  them  dancing/ I'll  be  married  in  my  old  clothes,' 
on  that  rough  plank  floor,  and  now  I  shall  have  them 
fresh  for  Boston,  for  I  am  going  back  to-morrow,  and 
who  knows  what  flowery  paths  they  may  lead  me  in  ? 
Good  bye,  little  Sally  —  so  you  have  a  pair  of  new 
shoes,  too  !  Almost  as  big  as  mine,  as  stout  and 
strong  as  you  are,  and  as  red  as  your  own  cheeks, 
while  mine  are  only  bits  of  silken  flimsiness  like  myself. 
Their  histories,  if  anybody  could  write  them,  will 
doubtless  be  much  like  our  own  lives.  Yours  will 
probably  last  long  and  finally  be  stubbed  out  among 
the  huckleberries  and  the  dandelions,  and  mine  will 
grow  faded  and  shabby  to  the  squeak  of  fiddlers  and 
the  glare  of  sconces,  and  they  will  both  be  buried  in 
Nature's  rag-bag  and  be  alike  forgotten." 

Goodman  Plympton,  who  liked  to  listen  to  Mistress 
Delight's  playful  chatter,  shook  his  head  gravely  at 
this  speech. 

"  Nay,  Mistress  Crowninshield,"  he  said,  "  I  have 
known  the  most  humble  raiment  to  be  treasured  care- 
fully from  generation  to  generation,  long  after  the 
whilom  owners  thereof  had  perished,  in  memory  of 
some  noble  deed  which  they  had  done  in  their  life- 


Sally's  Seven-league  Shoes, 

time_,  and  which  forbade  that  they  should  ever  be  for- 
gotten." 

"  We  have  my  grandfather's  soiled  gauntlets,  for  he 
fought  with  Cromwell,"  said  Mistress  Delight. 


MISTRESS    DELIGHT   MORALIZES. 


"  And  mother  has  wrapped  in  fine  white  paper  the 
sprigged  veil  which  my  grandmother  made  and  wore," 
said  little  Sally. 

"Yea,"  replied  Goodman  Plimpton,  "  your  grand- 
mother was  a  French  Huguenot.     The  veil  is  but  a 


Sallfs  Seven-league  Shoes. 

bit  of  silken  flimsiness,  of  a  piece  with  your  slippers, 
Mistress  Delight,  but  it  has  endured,  for  it  holds 
within  it  something  of  the  grace  and  loveliness  of  the 
wearer  and  maker,  for  it  is  written  that  though  all 
things  else  vanish  away,  yet  love  abideth.  And  the 
gloves  of  your  grandfather,  though  rough  and  un- 
comely, yet  speak  a  stout  heart  and  noble  deeds, 
and    these   cannot  die,   fair  Mistress   Delight." 

Delight  Crowninshield  went  to  Boston,  and  the 
peach-blossom  tinted  slippers  graced  her  feet  at  all  of 
the  few  merry-makings  in  which  the  prim  little  town 
indulged.  At  one  of  these  she  met  a  young  French- 
man from  Quebec,  an  officer  under  the  great  Count 
Fontenac,  who  was  in  Boston  on  business  of  his  com- 
mand. This  officer  thought  he  had  never  seen  any- 
one as  beautiful  as  Delight  Crowinshield,  and  during 
his  stay  in  Boston  he  was  constantly  at  her  side. 

.  One  day  as  they  were  walking  in  Frog  Lane,  now 
Boylston  street,  Delight  found  that  she  had  lost  one 
of  her  paste  shoe-buckles,  and  that  she  would  soon 
lose  the  slipper  also,  if  it  were  not  replaced. 

They  stepped  into  a  shop,  and  the  Frenchman 
bought  a  buckle  and,  dropping  on  one  knee,  placed 
Delight's  little  foot  on  the  other  while  he  fastened 
the  slipper  snugly  for  her.  But  Boston  mud  in  Frog 
Lane  then  was  quite  as  bad  as  Boston  mud   in  Boyl- 


Sallfs  Seven-league   Shoes. 

ston  street  now,  and  when  Delight  removed  her  foot 
the  print  of  her  sole  was  startlingly  visible  on  the 
French  officer's  fine  white  broadcloth  knee-breeches. 


IN   FROG   LANE,    BOSTON. 


"  I  fear  me  it  will  not  come  off,"  said  Delight,  rue- 
fully. 

"Then  let  it  remain,"  replied  the  gallant  French- 
man. "  I  shall  guard  it  as  the  proudest  decoration  I 
possess  until  the  day  that  I  can  claim  little  foot  and 
little  body  as  my  own." 

Wooings  were  rather  more  stately  and  lengthy  things 


Sally's  Seven-league  Shoes. 

in  those  days  than  now,  and  the  French  officer  was 
obliged  to  go  back  to  Quebec  wearing  a  new  pair  of 
knee-breeches,  the  stained  ones  folded  away  in  his 
chest,  and  only  the  vague  assurance  that  he  might 
claim  Mistress  Delight  as  his  bride  when  it  was 
plainly  proved  that  he  deserved  her. 

He  had  scarcely  gone  when  very  sorrowful  news 
was  heard  from  Hatfield.  The  Indians  had  made  a 
descent  upon  the  town,  had  burned,  and  pillaged,  and 
murdered,  and  carried  away  captive.  Little  Sally 
Colman's  mother  was  killed  and  Sally  herself  carried 
to  Canada. 

Poor  little  Sally  !  She  had  been  rudely  waked  up 
that  chill  autumn  morning  by  glare  of  fire  and  shrieks^ 
and  horrid  yells ,  but  as  she  was  dragged  out  of  the 
burning  house  she  caught  at  the  objects  dearest  to 
her  heart  —  her  new  red  shoes.  Many  a  weary  mile 
the  little  captive  trudged  meekly,  uncomplainingly, 
until  the  heart  of  even  her  Indian  captor  was  touched, 
and  he  lifted  her  to  his  shoulders  as  they  strode 
through  the  thick  underbrush. 

Often  the  straggling  band  would  be  separated,  and 
then  they  kept  near  each  other  by  uttering  hideous 
noises;  hooting  like  screech-owls,  or  howling  like 
wolves.  When  Sally  heard  these  sounds  she  would 
start  with  fright,  and  cling  to  Painted  Arrow's  neck  ; 


ALL  THE  WAY   TO  CANADA. 


Sa//y's  Seven-league  Shoes. 

until  the  savage,  seeing  how  she  trusted  in  him  for 
protection,  answered  her  confidence  with  every  kind- 
ness in  his  power  to  grant. 

When  they  cHmbed  the  steep  mountains  he  placed 
her  on  one  of  the  horses  behind  one  of  the  two  ugly- 
faced  squaws  who  accompanied  the  party,  and  when 
she  trembled  with  the  quivering  of  the  frail  birch- 
bark  canoe,  in  which  they  crossed  the  Connecticut, 
he  leaped  into  the  deadly-cold  water  and  followed  her, 
swimming  by  its  side  and  steadying  it  now  and  then 
with  his  hand. 

They  crossed  the  river  several  times,  keeping  it  be- 
tween them  and  the  English  settlements  as  they  trav- 
elled northward.  The  Indians  hunted  as  they  went, 
and  Painted  Arrow  always  shared  his  portion  with 
little  Sally,  who  learned  to  consider  a  roasted  bear's 
paw  a  great  delicacy.  Once  they  had  huckleberries 
which  the  squaws  gathered  ;  but  in  getring  them  the 
squaws  lost  Benoni  Stebbins,  whom  they  had  taken 
with  them  to  carry  the  full  baskets,  and  Benoni,  mak- 
ing his  way  back  to  Hatfield,  told  their  friends  at 
home  of  their  sufferings  and  put  stout-hearted  pur- 
suers upon  their  track. 

The  Indians  toiled  over  the  Green  Mountains  and 
reached  Lake  Champlainonly  to  find  it  frozen.  Here 
they  made  sledges,  and   Painted  Arrow  placed  Sally 


Sally's  Seven-league   Shoes. 

and  little  Samuel  Russell,  who  had  been  taken  cap- 
tive at  Deerfield,  on  one  of  these  and  tucking  them  in 
with  skins  and  his  own  blanket  drew  them  over  the 
ice.  But  in  spite  of  his  care  the  boy  died,  and  when 
they  reached  Chamblee  some  of  the  more  cruel  In- 
dians burned  Goodman  Plympton  at  the  stake. 

It  was  Christmas  time  when  they  reached  Sorel,  a 
French  garrison  on  the  St.  Lawrence  river,  and  here 
Sally  and  the  other  captives  were  sold  as  slaves  to  the 
French  settlers.  The  French  masters  were  kinder  to 
them  than  their  Indian  ones  had  been,  and  Sally  at- 
tended the  Christmas  service  at  the  little  Jesuit  church, 
thankful  at  heart  that  the  perilous  journey  was  ac- 
complished. 

After  service  there  was  a  Christmas  dinner  such  as 
Sally  had  never  tasted,  for  her  master,  Jean  Poitevin, 
had  been  a  prince  of  cooks  in  his  native  land,  and  he 
donned  a  white  apron  and  paper  cap  and  served  up  a 
dinner  that  would  have  done  honor  to  a  Parisian  res- 
taurant. In  the  first  place  there  was  a  delicious  soup 
made  of  the  legs  and  head  of  a  rooster,  an  onion,  a 
carrot  cut  in  fancy  pieces,  a  bouquet  of  different  kinds 
of  herbs,  and  a  piece  of  garlic.  Then  there  was 
gibelotte  de  lapin,  a  rabbit  stewed  in  a  delicious  black 
sauce.     This  was  accompanied  by  blocks  of  bread 

cut  from  a  loaf  about  as  long  as  Jean  Poitevin's  arm. 
23 


Sally's  Seven-league  Shoes,   « 

Next  came  the  rooster  served  with  little  mushrooms 
all  around  him,  big  ones  tucked  under  his  wings  and 
a  button-hole  knot  of  them  on  his  breast.  After  this 
Sally  helped  Madame  Poitevin  to  clear  away  the  meats, 
and  the  family  attacked  the  dessert  which  had  all  along 
ornamented  the  central  part  of  the  table,  and  con- 
sisted of  a  temple  of  macaroons  marvellously  iced 
and  decorated,  six  little  pots  of  six  different  kinds  of 
preserves,  and  some  very  black  coffee. 

Poor  little  Sally  !  The  kindness  of  her  new  owners 
was  quite  as  bad  for  her  as  the  severity  of  the  Indi- 
ans, and  the  varied  bill  of  fare,  after  her  scanty  diet 
of  bear's-paws  and  acorns,  made  her  very  ill.  Madame 
Poitevin  nursed  her  very  kindly,  and  mended  her  little 
red  shoes,  which  had  become  very  ragged  with  the 
long  march.  The  Indians  had  replaced  the  shoe- 
strings by  deer-sinews,  and  Madame  Poitevin  bound 
the  worn  edge  with  a  ribbon  which  she  had  brought 
with  her  from  France.  Then  she  took  out  her  lace 
pillow,  and  Sally,  as  she  watched  the  growth  of  the 
frost-like  sprays,  thought  of  her  grandmother's 
sprigged  veil  which  lasted  so  long,  and  of  Goodman 
Plympton's  words  —  "  Love  endureth."  By  her  lov- 
ing ways  and  gentle,  obedient  behavior  she  won  the 
Poitevins'  hearts  ;  but  in  spite  of  their  kindness  the 


Sally's  Seven-league  Shoes. 

tears  would  often   well  to  her  eyes,  and  she  would 
sob  : 

"  Father,  father,  shall  I  ever  see  you  and  dear  old 
Hatfield  again  ?  " 

And  ever  since  the  return  of  Benoni  Stebbins, 
Sally's  father  and  the  good  Hatfield  people  generally 
had  been  doing  their  best  for  the  rescue  of  their  kid- 
napped neighbors.  Benjamin  Wait  and  Stephen 
Jennings,  whose  wives  had  been  carried  away,  were 
most  forward  of  all.  They  went  to  Albany  and 
tried  to  obtain  soldiers  to  follow  the  Indians.  But 
instead  of  being  helped  they  were  hindered,  for 
the  Dutch  and  Yankees  were  not  very  friendly  at 
this  time,  and  they  were  thrown  into  prison  for  a 
while,  so  that  it  was  not  until  December  that  these 
two  brave  men,  with  only  a  friendly  Mohawk  Indian 
for  a  guide,  set  out  for  Canada. 

When  Delight  Crowninshield  heard  of  this  expe- 
dition it  struck  her  that  perhaps  she  could  do  some- 
thing to  help  it  along,  and  seizing  her  father's  stubby 
goose-quill,  she  wrote  the  following  quaint  letter  to 
the  French  officer  who  had  carried  away  the  print  of 
her  small  foot  on  his  knee  and  heart : 

Resp'd  Sir  :  There  has  been  an  incursion  of  ye  barbarous 
savages  who  have  captivated  raany  of  ye  people  of  Hatfield 
leading  them  away  to  Canada.    Certain  of  our  people,  Benjamin 


Sally's  Seven-league   Shoes. 

Wait  and  Stephen  Jenning,  are  now  on  their  way  to  Quebec  to 
obtain  the  deliverance  of  the  same,  which  if  thou  canst  effect 
or  aid  through  thy  influence  with  thy  master,  the  great  Governor 
Fontinac,  thou  mayest  make  any  demand  upon  my  kindness 
which  thou  seest  fit.  In  witness  whereof  I  hereto  set  my  hand 
and  seal  this   15th  day  of   November,  1676. 

Delight  Crowninshield. 

The  seal  which  the  little  witch  affixed  was  two 
drops  of  black  sealing  wax,  artfully  managed  to  re- 
semble the  print  of  a  slipper. 

This  was  enough.  When  the  Hatfield  ambassadors 
reached  Quebec  they  were  brought  at  once  before 
Fontinac,  and  the  release  of  all  the  captives  ordered. 
A  guard  of  French  soldiers  was  also  granted  to  con- 
vey them  safely  to  Hatfield. 

They  set  out  on  their  homeward  journey  the  middle 
of  April  and  arrived  in  the  early  summer,  little  Sally 
still  wearing  the  remnants  of  her  seven-league  shoes 
—  two  very  worn  soles  with  little  of  the  scarlet  uppers 
and  a  frayed  morsel  of  French  ribbon  left,  each  cling- 
ing to  the  ankle  only  by  a  string  of  stout  deer's  sinew. 

The  young  French  officer,  who  you  may  be  sure 
formed  one  of  the  guard,  quickly  made  an  exchange 
of  prisoners,  for  though  he  returned  Sally  to  her 
home,  he  carried  Delight  back  with  him  to  Quebec  in 
a  far  more  "  captivated  "  condition  than  any  of  the 


Sally's   Seven-league   Shoes, 

prisoners  taken  by  the  Indians.  And  Madame  De- 
light's first  wifely  duty  was  to  scour  long  and  ear- 
nestly a  spot  of  Boston  mud  left  on  a  pair  of  her 
husband's  white  knee-breeches.  But  the  mud  had 
been  left  untouched  so  long  that  it  never  thoroughly 
came  out ;  and  the  gallant  French  officer  told  the 
story  of  the  half  effaced  footprint  many  times  amidst 


the   applause  of    his  comrades  and  even  of  Count 
Fontenac  himself. 

You  can  see  one  of  Sally's  red  shoes  to-day  in  the 
museum  of  the  Memorial  Association  at  Deerfield  — 
the  little  shoe  that  trudged  to  Canada  and  back,  and 
has  lasted,  unlike  most  children's  shoes,  over  two  hun- 
dred years.  The  other  is  in  the  collection  at  the  Old 
South  Church  in  Boston,  and  was  referred  to  in  the 
Wide  Awake  for  July,  1879,  in  an  article  entitled 
"  The  Children's  Hour  at  the  Old  South." 


Sallys   Seven-league  Shoes. 

That  "Love  endureth,"  though  slipper-prints  fade 
and  shoes  wear  out,  and  that  patient  submission  will 
conquer  in  the  end,  is  the  lesson  of  Sally's  little 
shoes. 


THE  LOST  DIAMOND  SNUFF 

BOX. 

THE  grand  old  kingdom  of  England,  in  the 
course  of  the  mossy  centuries  you  can  count 
over  its  head,  has  had  its  times  of  gloom  and  de- 
pression at  dangers  that  looked  near,  and  its  times 
of  shouting  and  rejoicing  over  dangers  its  brave  men 
have  driven  away  quite  out  of  sight  again. 

One  of  the  deepest  seasons  of  gloom  was  when  the 
French  Emperor_,  Napoleon,  had  conquered  one  coun- 
try after  another,  until  there  was  scarcely  anything 
but  England  left  to  attack  ;  and  one  of  the  proudest 
times  of  rejoicing  was  when  the  "  Iron  Duke  "  Wel- 
lington, and  the  bluff  old  Prussian,  Bliicher,  met  him 
at  Waterloo,  defeated  his  armies  and  drove  him  from 
the  field.  There  were  bonfires,  and  bell-ringings 
then,  and  from  that  day  onward  England  loved  and 
cherished  every  man  who  had  fought   at  Waterloo — • 


The  Lost  Diamond  Sfiuff  Box. 

from    the    Iron  Duke  himself   down  to  the   plainest 
private,  every  one  was  a  hero  and  a  veteran. 

In  one  of  the  humblest  houses  of  a  proud  noble- 
man's estate,  a  low,  whitewashed  cottage,  one  of  these 
veterans  lived  not  so  very  many  years  ago.  He  had 
fought  by  his  flag  in  one  of  the  most  gallant  regi- 
ments until  the  last  hour  of  the  battle,  and  then  had 
fallen  disabled  from  active  service  for  the  rest  of  his 

life. 

That   did   not   seem  to  be  of  so    very  great  conse' 

quence,  though,  just  now  ;  for  peace  reigned    in  the 

land,  and  with   his  wife  and  two  beautiful  daughters 

to  love,  his  battles  to  think  over,  and  his  pension  to 

provide  the  bread  and   coffee,  the  old   soldier  was  as 

happy  as   the   day  was  long.     It  made  no  difference 

that  the   bread   and  the  coffee   were  both  black,  and 

the  clothes   of  the  veteran  were  coarse  and  seldom 

new. 

"  Ho,  Peggy ! "  he  used  to  say  to  his  wife,  "  my 
cloak  is  as  fine  as  the  one  the  Iron  Duke  wore  when 
they  carried  me  past  him  just  as  the  French  were 
breaking ;  and  as  for  the  bread,  only  a  veteran 
knows  how  the  recollection  of  victory  makes  every- 
thing taste  sweet !  " 

But  it  seemed  as  if  the  old  soldier's  life  was  going 
to  prove  like  his  share  in  that  great  day  at  Waterloo 


The  Lost  Diamond  Snuff  Box. 

—  success  and  victory  till  the  end  had  nearly  come, 
and  then  one  shot  after  another  striking  him  with 
troubles  he  could  never  get  over. 

The  first  came  in  the  midst  of  the  beautiful  sum- 
mer days,  when  the  bees  droned  through  the  delicious 
air,  the  rose-bush  was  in  full  bloom,  and  the  old 
soldier  sat  in  the  cottage  door  revelling  in  it  all. 
A  slow,  merciless  fever  rose  up  through  the  soft  air  — 
it  did  not  venture  near  the  high  ground  where  the 
castle  stood,  but  it  crept  noiselessly  into  the  white- 
washed cottage,  one  night,  and  the  soldier's  two 
daughters  were  stricken  down.  This  was  the  begin- 
ning of  terrible  trouble  to  the  veteran  of  Waterloo. 
Not  that  he  minded  watching,  for  he  was  used  to 
standing  sentry  all  night,  and  as  for  nursing,  he  had 
seen  plenty  of  the  hospital ;  but  to  see  his  daughters 
suffering  —  that  was  what  he  could  not  bear  ! 

And  worst  of  all,  between  medicines  and  necessa- 
ries for  the  sick,  the  three  months'  pension  was  quite 
used  up,  and  when  the  old  soldier's  nursing  had  pulled 
through  the  fierceness  of  the  fever,  there  was  nothing 
but  black  bread  left  in  the  house  —  and  black  bread 
was  almost  the  same  as  no  bread  at  all  to  the  dainty 
appetites  the  fever  had  left ;  and  that  was  what  he  had 
to  think  of,  and  think  of,  as  he  sat  in  the  cottage  door. 
Bah  !  "  said  the  old  soldier,  with  something  more 


« 


The  Lost  Diamond  Snuff  Box. 

like  a  groan  than  was  ever  heard  from  him  while  his 
wounds  were  being  dressed,  "  I  could  face  all  the  ar 
mies  of  Napoleon  better  than  this  !  " 

And  he  sat  more  and  more  in  the  cottage  door,  as 
if  that  could  leave  the  trouble  behind  ;  but  it  stood 
staring  before  him,  all  the  same,  till  it  almost  shut  the 
rosebush  and  the  bees  out  of  sight.  But  one  morn- 
ing a  tremendous  surprise  came  to  him  like  a  flash 
out  of  the  sky  !  He  heard  the  sound  of  galloping 
troops,  and  he  pricked  up  his  ears,  for  that  always 
made  him  think  of  a  cavalry  charge. 

"  Who  goes  there  ?  "  he  cried  ;  but  without  answer- 
ing his  challenge  the  sound  came  nearer  and  nearer, 
and  a  lackey  in  full  livery  dashed  up  to  the  door,  and 
presented  him  with  a  note  sealed  with  the  blood-red 
seal  of  the  castle  arms.  It  was  an  invitation  to  dine 
at  the  castle  with  a  company  of  noblemen  and  officers 
of  the  army.  His  lordship,  who  had  also  fought  at 
Waterloo,  had  just  learned  that  a  comrade  was  living 
on  his  estate,  and  made  haste  to  do  him  honor,  and 
secure  a  famous  guest  for  his  dinner  party. 

The  old  soldier  rose  up  proudly^  and  gave  the 
lackey  a  military  salute. 

*'  Tell  his  lordship,"  he  said,  "  that  I  shall  report  my- 
self at  head-quarters,  and  present  my  thanks  for  the 
honor  he  has  done  me." 


The  Lost  -Diamond  Sfiuff  Box. 

The  lackey  galloped  off,  and  the  veteran  pushed 
his  chair  over  with  his  wooden  leg,  and  clattered 
across  the  cottage  floor. 

"  Ho,  Peggy !  "  he  cried,  "  did  I  not  say  that  luck 
comes  and  trouble  flies  if  you  only  face  the  enemy 
long  enough  ?  This  is  the  beginning  of  good  things, 
I  tell  you  !  A  hero  of  Waterloo,  and  fit  to  dine  with 
lords  and  generals,  will  certainly  have  other  good  for- 
tune coming  to  him,  till  he  can  keep  his  wife  and 
daughters  like  princesses.  Just  wait  a  bit  and  you 
shall  see  !  "  and  he  turned  hastily  away,  for  his  heart 
came  up  in  his  throat  so  that  he  could  not  speak. 

All  the  rest  of  that  day  he  sat  in  the  door,  brushing 
and  darning  and  polishing  his  stained  uniform.  It 
had  lain  abandoned  on  the  shelf  for  many  a  year, 
but  before  night  every  button  was  shining  like  gold, 
the  scarlet  cloth  was  almost  fresh  once  more,  and  the 
old  soldier,  wrapped  in  his  faithful  cloak,  was  making 
his  way  joyfully  across  the  heathery  moors  to  the 
castle  quite  at  the  other  side. 

But  when  he  had  fairly  reached  it,  and  the  servant 
had  shown  him  into  the  drawing-room^  his  heart  al- 
most failed  him  for  a  moment.  Such  splendor  he 
had  never  seen  before  —  a  thousandth  part  would 
have  bought  health  and  happiness  for  the  dear  ones 


The  Lost  Diamond  Snuff  Box. 

he  had  left  with  only  his  brave  goodbye   and  a  fresh 
rose-bud  to  comfort  them  ! 

However,  what  with  the  beautiful  ladies  of  the 
castle  gathering  round  him  to  ask  questions  about  the 
battle,  and  with  a  seat  near  his  lordship's  right  hand 
at  dinner,  he  soon  plucked  up  again,  and  began  to 
realize  how  delightful  everything  was.  But  that  was 
the  very  thing  that  almost  spoiled  the  whole  again, 
for  when  he  saw  his  plate  covered  with  luxuries  and 
delicacies  more  than  he  could  possibly  eat,  the 
thought  of  the  black  bread  he  had  left  at  the  cottage 
brought  the  tears  rushing  to  his  eyes. 

But,  "  Tut !  "  he  said  to  himself  in  great  dismay, 
"  what  an  ungrateful  poltroon  his  lordship  will  think 
he  has  brought  here  !  "  and  he  managed  to  brush  them 
off  while  no  one  was  looking. 

It  was  delicious,  though,  in  spite  of  everything,  and 
after  a  while  the  wine  began  to  flow — that  warmed 
his  very  heart  —  and  then  he  heard  his  lordship  call- 
ing to  a  servant  to  bring  him  something  from  his  pri- 
vate desk,  saying : 

"  Gentlemen,  I  am  about  to  show  you  the  proudest 
treasure  I  possess.  This  diamond  snuff-box  was  pre- 
sented to  me  by  the  stout  old  Bliicher  himself,  in  re- 
membrance of  service  I  was  able  to  perform  at 
Waterloo.     Not  that  I  was  a  whit  worthier  of  it  than 


The  Lost  Diamond  Sfiuff-Box. 

the  brave  fellows  under  my  command  —  understand 
that !  " 

How  the  diamonds  glistened  and  gleamed  as  the 
box  was  passed  from  hand  to  hand  !  As  if  the  thick- 
est cluster  of  stars  you  ever  saw,  could  shine  out  in 
the  midst  of  a  yellow  sunset  sky,  and  the  colors  of 
the  rainbow  could  twinkle  through  them  at  the  same 
time  !  It  was  superb,  but  then  that  was  nothing  com- 
pared to  the  glory  of  receiving  it  from  Bliicher  ! 

Then  there  was  more  wine  and  story-telling,  and  at 
last  some  one  asked  to  look  at  the  snuff-box  again. 

"  Has  any  one  the  snuff-box  at  present  ?  "  asked 
his  lordship,  rather  anxiously,  for  as  he  turned  to 
reach  it  no  snuff-box  was  to  be  seen. 

No  one  said  "  yes,"  for  everyone  was  sure  he  had 
passed  it  to  his  neighbor,  and  they  searched  up  and 
down  the  table  with  consternation  in  their  faces,  for 
the  snuff-box  could  not  have  disappeared  without 
hands,  but  to  say  so  was  to  touch  the  honor  of  gentle- 
men and  soldiers. 

At  last  one  of  the  most  famous  officers  rose  from 
his  seat: 

"  My  lord,  he  said,  "  a  very  unlucky  accident 
must  have  occurred  here.  Some  one  of  us  must  have 
slipped  the  box  into  his  pocket  unconsciously,  mis- 
taking it  for  his  own.     I  will  take  the  lead  in  search- 


The  Lost  Diamond  Snuff-Boyi, 

ing  mine,  if  the  rest  of  the  company  will  follow !  " 

"  Agreed !  "  said  the  rest,  and  each  guest  in  turn 
went  to  the  bottom  of  one  pocket  after  another,  but 
still  no  snuff-box,  and  the  distress  of  the  company  in- 
creased. The  old  soldier's  turn  came  last,  and  with 
it  came  the  surprise.  With  burning  cheeks  and  arms 
folded  closely  across  his  breast  he  stood  up  and  con- 
fronted the  company  like  a  stag  at  bay. 

"  No  ! "  he  exclaimed,  "  no  one  shall  search  my 
pockets  !     Would  you  doubt  the  honor  of  a  soldier  t " 

"  But  we  have  all  done  so,"  said  the  rest,  "  and 
every  one  knows  it  is  the  merest  accident  at  the 
most."  But  the  old  soldier  only  held  his  arms  the 
tighter,  while  the  color  grew  deeper  in  his  face.  In 
his  perplexity  his  lordship  thought  of  another  expe- 
dient. 

"  We  will  try  another  way,  gentlemen,"  he  said,  "  I 
will  order  a  basket  of  bran  to  be  brought,  and  pro- 
pose that  each  one  in  turn  shall  thrust  his  hand  into  the 
bran.  No  one  shall  look  on,  and  if  we  find  the  box 
at  last,  no  one  can  guess  whose  hand  placed  it 
there." 

It  was  quickly  done,  and  hand  after  hand  was 
thrust  in,  until  at  last  came  the  old  soldier's  turn  once 
more.     But  he  was  no  where  to  be  seen. 


The  Lost  Diamond  S7iuff-Box. 

Then,  at  last  the  indignation  of  the  company  broke 
forth. 

"  A  soldier,  and  a  hero  of  Waterloo,  and  willing  to 
be  a  thief !  "  and  with  their  distress  about  the  affair, 
and  his  lordship's  grief  at  his  loss,  the  evening  was 
entirely  spoiled. 

Meantime  the  old  soldier,  with  his  faithful  cloak 
wrapped  closely  round  him  once  more,  was  fighting 
his  way  through  the  sharp  winds  and  over  the  moors 
again.  But  a  battle  against  something  a  thousand 
times  sharper  and  colder  was  going  on  in  his  breast. 

"  A  thief  !  "  he  was  saying  over  and  over  to  himself, 
"me,  who  fought  close  to  the  side  of  the  Iron  Duke! 
And  yet,  can  I  look  one  of  them  in  the  face  and  tell 
him  he  lies  ?  " 

The  walk  that  had  been  gone  over  so  merrily  was 
a  terrible  one  to  retrace,  and  when  the  cottage  was 
reached,  instead  of  the  pride  and  good  luck  the  poor 
invalids  had  been  watching  for,  a  gloom  deadlier  than 
the  fever  followed  him  in.  He  sat  in  the  doorway 
as  he  used,  but  sometimes  he  hung  his  head  on  his 
breast,  and  sometimes  started  up  and  walked  proudly 
about,  crying  — 

"  Peggy  !  I  say  no  one  shall  call  me  a  thief  !  I  am 
a  soldier  of  the  Iron  Duke  !  " 

But  they  did  call  him  a  thief,  though,  for  a  very 
24 


The  Lost  Diamond  Snuff  Box. 

strange  thing,  after  his  lordship  had  sorrowfully  or- 
dered the  cottage  and  little  garden  spot  to  be  searched 
no  box  was  found,  and  the  gloom  and  the  mystery 
grew  deeper  together. 

Good  nursing  could  not  balance  against  trouble  like 
thisj  the  beautiful  daughters  faded  and  died,  the 
house  was  too  gloomy  to  stay  inside,  and  if  he  es- 
caped to  the  door,  he  had  to  hear  the  passers  say  — 

"  There  sits  the  soldier  who  stole  the  Bliicher  dia 
monds  from  his  host  ! " 

And  as  if  this  was  not  enough,  one  day  the  sound 
of  hoofs  was  heard  again,  and  a  rider  in  uniform  clat- 
tered up  to  the  door  saying : 

"  Comrade,  I  am  sent  to  tell  you  that  your  pensioh 
is  stopped  !  His  Majesty  cannot  count  a  thief  any 
longer  a  soldier  of  his  !  " 

After  this  the  old  soldier  hardly  held  up  his  head 
at  all,  and  his  hair,  that  had  kept  black  as  a  coal  all 
these  years,  turned  white  as  the  moors  when  the  win- 
ter snow^s  lay  on  them. 

"  Though  that  is  all  the  same,  Peggy,"  he  used  tc> 
say,  "  for  it  is  winter  all  the  year  round  with  rne  !  If 
I  could  only  die  as  the  old  year  does  !  That  would  be 
the  thing !  " 

But  long  and  merciless  as  the  winter  is,  spring  does 


The  Lost  Diamond  Snuff- Box, 

come  at  last,  if  we  can  but  live  and  fight  our  way 
through  the  storms  and  cold. 

One  night  a  cry  of  fire  roused  all  the  country-side. 
All  but  the  old  soldier.  He  heard  them  say  the  castle 
was  burning,  but  what  was  that  to  him  ?  Nothing 
could  burn  away  the  remembrance  that  he  had  once 
been  called  a  thief  within  its  walls  !  Bui  the  next 
morning  he  heard  a  step  —  not  a  horse's  hoof  this 
time,  but  a  strong  man  walking  hastily  towards  him. 

"  Where  is  the  veteran  of  Waterloo  } "  asked  his 
lordship's  voice,  and  when  the  old  soldier  stepped 
forward,  he  threw  his  arms  about  his  neck  with  tears 
and  sobs. 

"  Comrade,"  he  said,  "  come  up  to  the  castle  !  The 
snuff-box  is  found,  and  I  want  you  to  stand  in  the 
very  room  where  it  was  lost  while  I  tell  everyone 
what  a  great  and  sorrowful  wrong  a  brave  and  honest 
soldier  has  suffered  at  my  hands !  " 

It  did  not  take  many  words  to  explain.  In  the 
first  alarm  of  fire  the  butler  had  rushed  to  the  plate- 
closet  to  save  the  silver. 

*'  Those  goblets  from  the  high  shelf !  Quick  !  "  he 
Baid,  to  the  footman  who  was  helping  him,  and  with 
the  haste  about  the  goblets  something  else  came 
tumbling  down. 

"  The  lost  diamond  snuff-box  !  "  cried  the  butler. 


The  Lost  Diamond  Snuff- Box. 

'*  That  stupid  fellow  I  dismissed  the  day  it  disap- 
peared, must  have  put  it  there  and  forgotten  all  about 
itJ" 

The  fire  was  soon  extinguished,  but  not  a  wink  of 
sleep  could  his  lordship  get  until  he  could  make  rep- 
aration for  the  pitiful  mistake  about  the  box ;  and 
once  more  the  old  soldier  made  his  way  across  the 
moors,  even  the  wooden  leg  stepping  proudly  as  he 
went  along,  though  now  and  then,  as  the  old  feeling 
came  over  him,  his  white  head  would  droop  for  a 
moment  again. 

The  servants  stood  aside  respectfully  as  he  entered 
the  castle,  and  they  and  the  other  guests  of  that  un- 
lucky day  gathered  round  him  while  his  lordship  told 
them  how  the  box  had  been  found  and  how  he  could 
not  rest  until  forgiven  by  the  brave  hero  he  had  so 
unjustly  suspected  of  wrong. 

"  And  now/'  said  the  company,  "  will  you  not  tell 
us  one  thing  more  ?  Why  did  you  refuse  to  empty 
your  pockets,  as  all  the  rest  were  willing  to  do  1 " 

"  Because,"  said  the  old  soldier  sorrowfully,  "  be- 
cause I  was  a  thief,  and  I  could  not  bear  that  anyone 
should  discover  it !  All  whom  I  loved  best  in  the 
world  were  lying  sick  at  home,  starving  for  want  of 
the  delicacies  I  could  not  provide,  and  I  felt  as  if  my 
heart  would  break  to  see  my  plate  heaped  with  luxu- 


The  Lost  Diamond  Snuff-Box. 

ries  while  they  had  not  so  much  as  a  taste  !  I  thought 
a  mouthful  of  what  I  did  not  need  might  save  them, 
and  when  no  one  was  looking  I  slipped  some  choice 
bits  from  my  plate  between  two  pieces  of  bread  and 
made  way  with  them  into  my  pocket.  I  could  not  let 
them  be  discovered  for  a  soldier  is  too  proud  to  beg, 
but  oh,  my  lord,  he  can  bear  being  called  a  thief  all 
his  life  better  than  he  can  dine  sumptuously  while 
there  is  only  black  bread  at  home  for  the  sick  and 
weak  whom  he  loves  !  " 

Tears  came  streaming  from  the  old  soldier's  listen- 
ers by  this  time,  and  each  vied  with  the  other  in  heap- 
ing honors  and  gifts  in  place  of  the  disgrace  suffered 
so  long ;  but  all  that  was  powerless  to  make  up  for 
the  past. 

Two  good  lessons  may  be  learned  from  the  story : 
Never  believe  any  one  guilty  who  is  not  really  proved 
to  be  so.  Never  let  false  shame  keep  you  from 
confessing  the  truth,  whether  trifling  or  of  importance. 


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